party pooper

,It's been awhile since I've gone to a party, short of weddings and work functions (E's, not mine), and for a good party, even longer. Little did I know there was a party going on in my kitchen, and wouldn't you know, no one sent me an invitation. How rude!

In the almost-year that I've lived in West Virginia, I've learned that, if nothing else, anything can get into your house. I don't know that I'd be surprised to walk into the living room to see a possum sipping tea and watching "Dr. Phil" (possums have issues, too). This week's guests were definitely on the smaller scale - ants. Let me be the first to tell you how thrilled I was - if you guessed not at all, you'd be right!

Thankfully, being married to a vegetarian country boy leads to some interesting cures.
Exhibit A:

Meet Bay Leaf, Cinnamon and the Pepper Twins: Cayenne and Black.

I thought E had lost his mind when he starting calling for spices out of my seasoning basket, but I let him go to town. We headed to the store right afterward and picked up some poison (just in case!), but so far, we haven't had to use a single drop. It seems like our guests have decided to move on to greener pastures.

The kitchen still smells of cinnamon, and I like it.